Reach

Michael:

It’s déjà vu all over again.  We’re in Babylon – where else would we be.  The music is as loud as ever, the men are as hot as always, and Brian is – Brian again.  And I don’t mean, the new and improved Brian that actually admits to having a boyfriend in public.  No, this is the Brian we all came to love and accept so long ago.  Well, some of us, anyway.  This is the Brian Kinney, king of Liberty Avenue.  Back in business once again.  Boyfriendless.  Once again.

I watch him down yet another shot of Jim Beam.  It is so obvious how hard he’s trying to pretend that he’s ok.  That he doesn’t miss Justin at all.  Just like he did the first time they went through this ordeal.  Except, this time around Brian’s act isn’t fooling anybody.  Least of all me.  Maybe he’s not good at it anymore.  Or maybe he showed all of us too much of himself to be able to fool us into thinking that it was all a lie.  I don’t know.  The point is – I know that it’s killing him inside. 

“Brian, I think you’ve had enough,” I tell him.  What can I say?  The worried wife routine, as Brian likes to call this…whatever, it’s in me.  I can’t not take care of him.  Or at least try to.  I think when we’re old and grey and are stuck in the old queer folks home I’ll still be telling him to take his meds and drink plenty of fluids. 

“I think I haven’t had nearly enough,” he replies.  “The night’s young, Mikey.  What do you say?” he holds a popper to my nose. 

“Take that shit away from me.”  I try to get the popper out of his hand.  He doesn’t need it either.  “You’ve got work tomorrow.”

“Your point being?” He stares at me, as if expecting me to say something else that would sound suspiciously like my mother. 

But I don’t.  I just take a step back and watch him self-destruct in front of me.  This is the only way he knows how to deal and I don’t really know how to help him, other than just stand next to him and make sure he gets home ok. 

For a while there I didn’t have to do that. 

For a while there, Justin made sure Brian was ok. 

For a while there Brian was better than ok. 

And now…

Nobody knows what happened between them.  There are speculations, tiny pieces of information that we were able to put together from conversations with Brian and Justin.  They’re not telling us much, though.  All we know is that one day Brian showed up at the diner without his usual companion.  And ma said that Justin was staying at Daphne’s for a little while. 

That was it.  We asked, we prodded, some of us even begged for any sort of explanation, but none came.  Brian and Justin were over.  Again.  Although, this time it appeared it wasn’t another fiddler.  It was just…life. 

That was over two months ago.  Two months of barely any contact between the two of them.  Which surprised even me.  I’ll admit, the first time when they broke up, I expected Justin to just leave.  To disappear.  But he didn’t.  He stayed in our lives.  In Brian’s life.  And Brian wanted it that way.  He went out of his way to make sure they were in each other’s lives. 

Not this time.  They might have had a few chance meetings at the diner, but other than that – no communicado at all.  Which only proves that this time it really might be over.

I look over at Brian when I hear his phone ring, which in this place is a miracle in and of itself.  He might have it set up on really loud.  Or maybe my ears have just gotten used to the loud noise after all this time.  In any case, Brian answers the phone, yelling a loud ‘what?’ into the phone.  I have no idea how he’s able to hear anything at all, but I know he does.  Whoever is on the other side, the news is not good.  Because Brian’s face turns grim.  He hangs up and immediately turns to leave.

“Brian, what’s wrong?” I call after him.

He doesn’t stop and he’s too fucking fast for me.  By the time I make it outside, the only thing I can see is the wheels spinning on his car as he drives away.

~~~***~~~***~~~

Emmett:

 “I’m worried,” I hear Michael say for like a gazillionth time this morning during our usual morning three-way.  Teddy, me, and Michael on the phone.

“Sweetie, he probably just remembered he had company coming,” I say as I finish folding the new shipment of the most incredible silk shirts.

“And coming and coming,” Teddie adds. 

I laugh, but even though I can’t see Michael, I know he’s not amused.

“No, something happened,” Michael says. 

“Well, why don’t you call him?” Teddie says, even though we both know that there are already about twenty messages on Brian’s answering machine by now.

“I did.  He’s not answering the phone.”

“I’m sure he’s just sleeping off the things he was freely putting in his mouth last night,” I try to be comforting.  “And I’m not just talking about numerous dicks.”  I sigh.  It’s sad to see Brian revert to that.  Not that he stopped tricking.  But it was different when he was with Justin.  Yes, he tricked.  They both did.  But it wasn’t…it wasn’t a way of life for him.  Like it is now.  If he saw a pretty piece of meat, he got it.  But it was obvious that he was saving the best for his golden boy. 

Now…

I sigh again.  I turn around when I hear the door open and my mouth immediately spreads into a grin. 

“Sweetie,” I exclaim, completely forgetting that I still have Teddie and Michael on the phone. 

“Hi, Em.”  Justin smiles at me.

“Gotta go, boys,” I say into the headset and hang up before they have a chance to say anything else.  I walk over to Justin, hug him and kiss him on the cheek.  “We haven’t seen you around here in a while.” 

“I know,” he says, “I’ve been busy.”

I watch him and it pains me to say that even though he’s got that bright smile on his face, he’s hurting.  I mean, really hurting.  And once again I wonder what exactly happened that caused them to call it quits. 

“Too busy for your good old friend?” I say, accusingly, adding a little pout to the mix.  Hey, guilt is the best weapon.  I learned that from Debbie.  Seems, Italian and Jewish women have the right idea.  I won’t be converting to Judaism any time soon, but I am trying to perfect that art. 

It works like a charm.

“Sorry,” he says.  I know he’s genuine about it, but something’s missing.  For one, he keeps avoiding my gaze.  For another – he’s trying way too hard to appear happy. 

“Baby, is everything ok?” I ask, moving closer to him.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” he replies, running his fingers over the black silk shirt that I had just folded.  “Everything’s fine,” he says again, finally raising his eyes to mine.

“I’m glad to hear that,” I say with relief.

“Why wouldn’t I be fine?”

“Well,” I shrug, not sure if I should tell him about Brian.  From Michael and Debbie I know that since their split, they have only seen each other a couple of times – briefly.  “Last night Brian got this mysterious call and ran out of Babylon as if the devil himself was chasing him.”

Justin frowns, concern written all over his face.

“I was just worried that maybe it had something to do with you, that’s all.”  He’s really one of the very few people who could get Brian to drop everything and run to him.  “But I’m glad to see that you are ok.”

“I am,” he confirms again.  “Uhm…” He looks away, then back at me and it’s so obvious he wants to ask.  I don’t make him, though. 

“No, we don’t know what happened.  Michael has been trying to get a hold of him, but to no avail.”

“Right,” he nods.  “Well, I should…” He points to the door.

“Already?  But you just got here.”  No, that wasn’t guilt.  That was just me missing my baby terribly. 

“I know, I’m sorry.  I just – I had a little time before I had to go to class so I thought I’d drop by.  But I should really go now.”  He gives me a small peck on the lips and just like he had appeared, he’s gone. 

~~***~~~***~~~

Lindsay:

The moment I walk in through the big steel door I know something’s wrong.  No, the sight of Brian hung over and a complete mess isn’t anything new.  And the sight of him trying to cover up the fact that he’s completely miserable without Justin is becoming a norm as well.  But something else is wrong.  Something is different about him this morning.

“I hope we’re not too early,” I say, putting Gus down and closing the door behind us.  Brian’s already in the kitchen, making coffee.

 “Shouldn’t you be at work?” he asks without even turning around.

As soon as I take Gus’s jacket off, he sprints toward Brian, as usual.  I watch as Brian picks him up and the father and son share kisses – a sight that makes me believe every time that I made the right choice when I had asked Brian to be the father. 

“Gus and I decided to take the day off,” I respond.  Putting the bag with Gus’ things and his jacket on one of the stools, I take a seat at the counter. 

Just as I do, the phone rings.  Brian doesn’t even glance in its direction.  Instead, he whispers something in Gus’s ear and I see my son giggle.  It always amazes me how Brian can always do that.  Make him laugh just like that.

“Shouldn’t you answer that?” I ask when his cell phone begins to ring as well.

“No,” he simply says, putting Gus down and turning to pick up the pot of steaming coffee.

“Could be important.”

“Mikey being a mother-hen is never important,” he responds.

So, something is wrong.  Michael can get overprotective when it comes to Brian, but he only goes into super-mothering mode when something is terribly wrong.  “What happened now?”

“What makes you think something happened?” he asks, his back still turned to me.

“Because I know you, Brian.”

He finally turns to me.  “I wish people would quit assuming they know me.”

“What’s going on?” I ask again.  “Did something happen with Justin?”

His whole appearance changes instantly, his body tensing up.  “Why is it that every time something goes wrong in my life, everybody immediately thinks it has something to do with Justin?”

“Because it usually does,” I point out. 

“No, it doesn’t.” 

“Maybe you should talk to him.”  I know I’m treading dangerous waters here and any wrong move could send me deep into the black abyss, but I have to try. 

“What for?”

“To make things right again.”

He sighs loudly, his frown deepening.  “Things are right again.  It’s over.  Don’t you get it?  It’s fucking over.  We’ve wasted enough of each other’s time.  It’s time to move on.”

“That’s what you think?  That you wasted time?”

“Well, what else would you call it?”

“I’d call it being in love.”

He grimaces at the word, as predicted.  “I told you once before, I never…”

“Loved him?” I finish for him.  “Well, you certainly did a good imitation of it.”

He looks away, then back at me.  “Just drop it, Linds.”

“Brian, I…”

“Drop it,” he says more forcefully.

And I do.  I let it drop and just drink my coffee quietly.

~~~***~~~***~~~

Daphne:

As soon as I close the door behind me and my eyes fall on the sitting statue of what once was my best friend, I know that something’s wrong.  Not just the usual wrong – him moping over Brian.  No.  Something is seriously bothering him.

“You ok?” I ask, dropping my backpack on the floor.

He just sighs loudly and continues to stare at the opposite wall.  The wall is empty, just white paint, so there is definitely nothing interesting that he could be focusing on there.  But he still keeps looking.

Nothing new there.  He’s been doing that for over two months now.  Sighing loudly.  Staring into empty space.  Lost in his own little world.  For the most part I leave him be.  He knows I’m here if he wants to talk.  He rarely does. 

“Justin?” I try again, sitting next to him.

“Hmmm?”

Finally, he looks at me. 

“Something happen?”

His eyes drop to the floor, lingering there for a few seconds before shifting back to the wall.  “I think something’s wrong with Brian.”

My curiosity is immediately peaked.  This is the first time he’s mentioned Brian in weeks. 

“You saw him?”

He shakes his head. 

“Then how do you know?”

“I saw Emmett today.  He said that Brian was at Babylon last night.”

“Well, that hardly seems out of the ordinary,” I try to point out. 

“Emmett said that he got a call and left really quickly.  He said that Brian looked like something was seriously wrong.  They even thought something happened to me.” 

I’m not sure what to say to that.  “Emmett’s almost as big a drama queen as you are,” I try my hand at a joke.  It falls on deaf ears, though.  “Come on, it could be anything.  Doesn’t necessarily mean something bad.”

He shakes his head again.  “I called Michael.  He hadn’t heard from Brian all day.”

“Well, did you try calling Brian directly?”  What?  It’s a reasonable question to ask.  Well, maybe not in this situation. 

When Justin showed up on my doorstep that night over two months ago, I thought it was temporarily.  I mean, I’ve been through this routine before – they have a fight, they take some time to cool off, then they kiss and make up.  Of course they do a lot more than just kissing when they’re making up, but that’s not important at the moment.  The point is, Justin and Brian are the never-ending story.  Or at least they were.

But as the day turned into a week and now months – I’m starting to wonder. 

Justin and I never officially discussed him moving in here.  It just sort of happened.  At first he said he didn’t want to see anybody else.  Then it turned into the whole not-wanting-to-run-into-Brian thing, even though Brian rarely graced Debbie’s house with his presence.  Still, my place was safer.  That’s what Justin said.  My guess is that my place was just easier.  No memories.  No connection to Brian whatsoever.  As if that somehow can make the pain he’s feeling go away.

But what’s a girl to do?  The only thing I can do is be here for him. 

He turns and looks at me as if I just said the most preposterous thing.  And I’m sure to him it seems that way. 

“Oh, come on, Justin, just pick up the phone and call him.”  Sometimes tough love is the only way to go.

“I can’t,” he says, his voice barely audible.

“Why not?  Look, I’m sure that whatever it is that he did to cause you guys to break up was as bad as you think and all, but maybe you should give him another chance.” 

Alright, so I have no idea what it is that Brian did.  I’ve been trying to get that information out of Justin for so damn long, I nearly gave up.  Nearly.  All I know is that it had to be bad.  I mean, really bad.  Because, let’s face it, as many times as Brian had fucked up, Justin was pretty much used to almost anything. 

“You wouldn’t understand,” he says and gets off the couch. 

I call after him but he just ignores me and goes into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

~~~***~~~***~~~

Justin:

Call him.  Call him.  Call him.  That’s all I want to do.  To pick up the goddamn phone and dial his number.  I just want to hear his voice.  To make sure that he’s alright.  Fucking Emmett.  Why couldn’t he just keep his fucking mouth shut?  Doesn’t he know?  I don’t care what happens to Brian anymore.  We’re not together.  We broke up.  We’re over. 

Yeah, I keep telling myself that.  As if after all this time I still haven’t learned one astoundingly painful and important fact – IT.  DOESN’T. WORK.

I still care.  Fuck.  I still care.  And it’s killing me.  Not knowing what’s going on his life.  How he is.  Where he is.  Who he’s with.  All the questions that are none of my business anymore.

Scary how quickly things change. 

Less than six months ago I thought I was in heaven.  Sometimes it felt that way.  Everything was just perfect.  We came back from our trip and things just – I never thought anything could be better than being on vacation with Brian – just the two of us.  But it was.  Better.  Just doing the day-to-day things with him.  Just regular, normal life things. 

The fact that we both fucked around was known to everybody.  It wasn’t something that ever bothered me.  I never even thought about it.  We agreed not to throw it into each other’s face.  That was the only rule.  If we felt like company, we both had to agree.  Other than that – out of sight, out of mind.  That was our motto.  And it worked.  Perfectly.  How often Brian tricked?  I don’t know.  I don’t care.  It wasn’t important.  Because when he was with me, he was with me.  He was completely mine.  And I was his.  I knew that.  I never once had a doubt in my mind about his feelings for me.

One Sunday afternoon we were hanging out at the loft – just doing nothing – my favorite activity.  And he dropped the bomb on me.  He told me to move in. 

Ok, now I know that laughter was not the reaction he was looking for, but fuck…this is Brian we’re talking about.  How was I supposed to know that he was actually serious?  He would never in a million years ask that.  That’s what I thought.  I laughed it off and he joined me in it.  And things went back to normal, right? 

Right.  Except – things changed.  Brian just changed.  Not really changed as much as he just started to pull away.  Slightly.  It was barely noticeable.  It was just tiny little things.  Like from time to time he’d tell me he was busy when we already made plans to spend an evening together.  Little things like that. 

I let them slide.  I mean, after everything that we’ve been through, being stood up a few times didn’t seem to matter. 

Then about two months ago – a little more than that – we were out with Gus at the park.  Gus was playing with some kids he knew while we sat on the bench, laughing at the fact that we looked like a couple of old married queers.  I’m sure Brian loved that comparison.  But he only laughed harder. 

That was the last time I heard him laugh. 

He said, “I guess you’re just gonna have to move in then.”

At first I laughed.  I guess I had too much fresh air or something.  But I just laughed.  When I looked over at him, I realized that he wasn’t joking.  He was asking me to move back in with him.  After all this time.

You’d think I would have jumped in his arms right there and then and kissed him all over and thanked him and told him how much I loved him. 

I didn’t.  I just sat there, suddenly feeling very cold, even under the April sun.  I didn’t know what to say.  Except…no.

Before I could say anything else, Brian was already walking away from me.  I tried to explain, but he just brushed it off in his usual fashion.

And everything once again returned to normal.  Right.  Not this time.  I wouldn’t see or hear from him for days.  He had completely pulled away from me, completely shut me out.  And I understood.  I did.  I hurt him with my answer.  So, I figured I’d give him some time.  He’d get over it eventually.

Which he did.  Or so I thought.  A few weeks after that unfortunate incident in the park, he showed up at the diner – looking as hot as ever, a smile on his face.  He kissed me, we chitchatted about his day, then my day, then about yet another contest at Babylon that he did not give a shit about.  He said, come over tonight.  I said, ok.  He kissed me and left.

For the rest of the day I felt like I could finally breathe easier.  Things were once again ok.  I couldn’t wait for my shift to be over.  As soon as eight o’clock came, I practically sprinted out of the diner.  I got home, took a shower, got dressed, and headed to the loft.

When I got there the door was open, which was unusual, since I still had my key.  I walked and I immediately knew what was going on.  I should have left.  I didn’t.  It was like driving past a car wreck.  You don’t want to look, but you still do. 

The loft was dark, the only light coming from the bedroom.  I heard the panting before I even stepped inside.  Slowly I moved forward, with baited breath hoping that what I knew was happening wasn’t real.  That I somehow imagined it.  Or it was just Brian jerking off because he couldn’t wait any longer for me. 

Fuck.  I don’t know what I was thinking.  I don’t even remember how I got from the door to the bottom of the steps leading up to the bedroom. 

I remember his eyes on mine.  Completely void of any emotion.  I remember hearing his voice telling me that he was busy, but I could schedule an appointment for another day.  I remember just standing there watching him fuck some guy.  I remember seeing him kiss the trick. 

I don’t remember how I left.  I’m not really sure what happened after that.  All I know is that somehow I ended up at Daphne’s.  And except for classes, my shifts at the diner, which I completely changed so I would not run into him, I had not left the apartment.

About a week later when the initial shock wore off, I met him.  In that same fucking park where it had all began.  He was already there, sitting on the bench, his elbows on his knees, leaning forward. 

“Hey,” I said quietly as I sat down next to him.  I probably should have been worried about crying in front of him, but the fact was, I felt completely empty.  I knew there wouldn’t be any tears, any outbursts.  I just didn’t have it in me.

“Hey,” he said, his eyes following me.

“Thanks for meeting with me,” I said.  Unable to look at him, I just watched some kids play in the playground.

“I heard you’re staying at Daphne’s,” he started.

“Yeah, well, it’s...I…” I sighed.  “I can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“This.  Small talk.  Pretending as if everything is fine and dandy.” 

He looked away, guiltily.  I knew what he was expecting next.  The ‘how could you?’ and ‘why, Brian?’  But it didn’t come.  I didn’t have it in me anymore.  And that surprised me as much as it did him.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked and I could hear the tiny quiver in his voice.

I shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I don’t know anymore.  I just…I’m tired.  I am so fucking tired.”  It was the truth.  I was completely drained.  I just didn’t have the energy to do it anymore.  The second-guessing, the stupid games, the whole deal.  I was sick of it. 

“Justin…” 

I shook my head.  I knew what was coming next.  “Don’t.”

He looked at me, surprised and confused at the same time.

“Don’t apologize.  And don’t explain why you did it.  Because I know.  I know why.  I understand.” 

He opened up to me.  When he asked me to move back in with him he opened up to me more than he had ever opened up to anybody else in his entire life.  I know what my saying ‘no’ meant to him.  How much it must have hurt. I realize that now.  And I knew it then.  But he hurt me.  So fucking much I wanted to die. 

“But I can’t do this anymore.  I can’t have my heart stomped all over because you feel angry or you feel hurt or you’re upset or just too fucking bored.  I don’t want that.  I deserve better than that.”

He stared straight ahead, staying perfectly still.  The only sign that told me that he had heard me was him clenching his jaw.  He took a deep breath.  Cleared his throat.  “What are you saying?”  His voice was so quiet, I barely heard him.

I knew he didn’t expect it.  Fuck, I didn’t expect it either.  Going there to meet him, I did not for one second think that it might have been the last time I’d ever talk to him.  But there we were – once again calling it quits.

“I don’t…I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”  The moment the words were out of my mouth, I felt cold.  I mean, ice cold.  Inside and out.  And I knew that no amount of hot chocolate or warm clothes and hot showers – nothing would ever be able to make me warm again.

He closed his eyes, opened them, refusing to look at me.  He didn’t say anything.  There was nothing else to say anyway.  I glanced one last time at him before getting up and leaving.  The last thing I saw was him sitting on the bench, head in his hands.

I ran into him a couple of times after that – in the diner, when by some bizarre reason he’d come in when I was there.  But I changed my schedule, planning it around the times when I knew he wouldn’t be there. 

Debbie wasn’t too happy.  Every time she saw me, she was asking me when I was coming home.  I didn’t know what to say.  I still don’t.  I can’t explain it, but here at Daphne’s I just feel safer right now.  She doesn’t prod…well, yeah, she does, but she knows when to drop it.  She knows what to say and when to say it.  And she knows when to shut up and just let me be. 

I splash some water on my face and walk back out into the living room.  Daphne’s not there.  I hear some noise coming from the kitchen, so I head over there.

“What are you doing?” I ask when I see her taking out a couple of bowls.

She turns and flashes me a smile.  “We’re having a movie night.”

“We are.”

“Yes.” 

The microwave beeps and I get a whiff of the popcorn.  If she got popcorn, she means business.

“What are we watching?”  When Daphne decides on a movie night, there’s no point in trying to get out of it.  It’s easier to just go along. 

“Minority Report.”

I roll my eyes.  “Not again.  Come on, Daph, we’ve seen it like a hundred times.”

“Twenty-seven,” she corrects me.  “And how often do you get to see Tom Cruise and Colin Farrell in a movie together?”

I groan.  “Twenty-seven times?”

She gives me the look.  The one that says that I don’t have a prayer in heaven in changing her mind.  So, sighing loudly, I take out the bag of popcorn from the microwave while she fills our bowls with ice cream and we go back to the living room.

We’re somewhere in the middle, watching Tom steal the girl when we hear a light knock on the door.

“Expecting somebody?” I ask as we both turn around.

Daphne shakes her head.

“Danny?” Daphne’s boyfriend.

“No, he’s at his parents’ tonight,” she responds.

“I’ll get it,” I say, getting up from the couch. 

Opening the door, I come face-to-face with the person I least expected to find on the other side of my door.

“Brian.”  I stand there shell-shocked.  I haven’t seen him in weeks.  On top of that, I have been worried sick about him all fucking day.  And now…he’s here.  “What are you doing here?”

He shrugs.  “I was in the neighborhood?” It’s more of a question.  As if he’s asking me whether this excuse would pass for an answer.  I let it slide.  I’m more interested in knowing what’s going on. 

I walk out and close the door behind me to give us some privacy.  I look him over, taking in his appearance.  He’s wearing jeans and his leather jacket.  He doesn’t appear to be drunk or high, but something’s off. 

He leans on the railing and looks at me.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

He snickers.  “Zephyr’s on the mission to save Rage again, huh?”

I smile.  “Yeah, I guess.  He’s been looking everywhere for you.  Everybody has.”

“Well, you can tell everybody I’m fine.”

“Maybe you could tell them,” I counter.

He sighs.  “I’m so fucking tired of everybody wanting to know my business.  Aren’t you tired of everybody sticking their fucking noses where they don’t belong?”

I take a step closer.  “Yeah, I guess.”

He nods and looks away, his gaze methodically avoiding me.

“What are you doing here, Brian?” I ask again, softer this time.

His eyes drop to the floor, then shift to meet mine.  He shrugs his shoulders and puts his hands into the pockets of his jacket. 

And I have no idea what to say.  So, I do the only thing I know and turn to leave.

“I got a call last night.”

I stop and turn around, waiting patiently for him to continue.

“From Clair.”

“What the fuck does she want now?” I ask, a little too harshly, probably.  But the bitch only calls when she needs something, usually money.  And after everything his family has put him through, they should leave Brian the fuck alone.  “A kidney?”

“My mother had a stroke.”  He says so matter-of-factly, it throws me off completely.  And I just stand there for what seems like forever, speechless.

“Brian…I’m sorry.”

He shrugs again.  “When you start off every day with a nice shot of brandy, these things tend to happen.”

I take a few steps toward him.  “But still, she’s your mother, Brian.”

“Yeah, well, somebody should have reminded her of that fact.”  He takes his hands out of his pockets and grips the railing so tight, his knuckles turn white.

I’m not even sure how my hand gets up to the railing, but it’s there.  It’s lying on top of his.

He’s surprised by it as much as I am.  He looks at it – at the spot where our hands connect – then looks at me.  And we just stand like that – eyes locked on each other. 

Fuck!  Fuck!  Fuck!

I’m drowning, getting lost in the hazel waves of his eyes.  This was the reason I tried to get him out of my life for good this time.  Because seeing him, being near him – it’s impossible not to forget why I’m here…and he’s…somewhere else. 

I can’t do this.  I know that.  Fuck.  As much as I want to pull him in my arms, I can’t.  So, instead I pull my hand away.

“Is she…” I clear my throat.  “Is she gonna be ok?”

He shakes his head no. 

I give him another lame “I’m sorry.”  What else can I say?  What else do you say in situations like these? 

He turns away and starts walking down the stairs.  And I have so much I want to say to him.  So much I want him to know.  But the only thing I can come up with is “Brian.”

He stops and looks up at me.  When I don’t say anything, he smiles. 

“Later,” he says quietly.

And I feel my breath catch in my throat.  That word – nobody would ever understand what that word means to us, to me.  It became a promise.  That there will be a later.  For us. 

I nod my head slightly.  “Later,” I whisper and then I watch him disappear down the stairs. 

I hear the heavy door open and close and he’s gone.  Just as quickly as he appeared, he’s gone again. 

I’m not sure how long I stand there before I finally make myself move back inside the apartment.

Daphne’s still on the couch, the movie is paused on the same scene as when I left.  She turns her head to me.  “Who was it?”

“Brian,” I respond, even though she already knows.

“What did he want?”

I walk back over to the couch and slump down heavily.  “His mother is dying.”  Fuck, just saying it makes me shiver. 

“Oh my God,” Daphne whispers.  “Is he ok?”

I lean forward and hide my head in my hands.  “I don’t know.”  It’s the truth.  He says he is, but with Brian you just never know.  Because he would never admit that inside he’s dying too. 

“Well, what did he say?”

I inhale sharply and sit up.  “Daph,” I snap at her.  It’s not her fault, I know that, but I am just not in the mood for twenty questions.  “Leave it alone.”  I get up and walk over to the table where the phone is sitting.  I pick up and dial the number of the comic book store.  Brian needs somebody to be there for him.  It can’t be me.  Not now.  Maybe not ever.  But Michael can.  He always will be. 

He answers on the second ring.  I tell him everything I know and I can only hope that he finds Brian soon.  That’s all I can do for now.  Hope that Brian will somehow make it through this just like he’s made it through everything else in his life. 

The next day I get a call from Michael telling me that Brian’s mother had died and that the funeral would be the following afternoon. 

“Are you gonna go?” Daphne asks me when I tell her.

“Yeah, that’s a great idea.  Her son’s ex lover showing up at her funeral.  I’m sure she would have loved that.” 

“But it’s not for her.  It’s for Brian,” Daphne insists.  “I’m sure he’ll need you there.”

I shake my head.  Shows how much she knows.  “Brian doesn’t need anybody.”  The minute I say it, I wonder how much of it is true and how much of it is me being bitter. 

“Really?  Could have fooled me,” she snarls.

“Leave it alone, Daph,” I warn her.  Not really in the mood to have the same conversation yet again.

“No, you know what?  I won’t leave it alone.”  She walks over and sits next to me on the couch, her eyes boring into me and I know there’s no escaping this.

“I’ve watched you for years now, going back and forth.  You’re with Brian.  Then you’re not.  Then you’re back with Brian.  Then you’re not again.  Don’t you get it?  It doesn’t matter what he does or what happens, you two will always be in each other’s lives.  Whether you like it or not, you’re connected.”

I snort.  “You’re not gonna give me some lame fate shit, are you?”

“No,” she glares at me.  Glares!  I quickly shut up, knowing better than to speak up again.  “What I’m saying is that you love him, Justin.  And yes, he hurt you.  And I’m sure he deserved to be slowly burned at the stake for that.  But, that’s not important right now.  He needs you.”

I open my mouth to argue, but she beats me to it.

“He needs you right now.  It’s so obvious.”

“I told you…”

“Who did he go to when he found out about his mother?”

I look away.  She’s right. 

“He didn’t go to Michael.  Or anybody else.  He came to you.  He told you first.”

I squeeze my eyes shut.  Whoever said that truth hurts was right.  He came to me and I completely blew him off. 

“And even though he and his mother did not have the best relationship, she was still his mother,” Daphne continues.  “And he’ll need you to help him make it through the day.”

I open my eyes and look at her.  She’s right yet again.  How women always end up being right is completely beyond me.  But the fact is, they are.  And now there is something I have to do.

I didn’t go to the funeral as Daphne said I should.  There was some place else I had to be. 

When I get there, he’s not home.  It doesn’t surprise me.  I consider waiting for him on the stairs, but it’s too damn hot on the staircase, so I unlock the door with my keys and walk inside. 

The loft is quiet and clean.  No sign of bottles of Jim or beer lying around, no used condoms – no sign of Brian’s usual pain management routine.  It makes me feel a little better.  Maybe Michael found him in time, stayed with him last night. 

Then again, maybe Brian just cleaned everything up this morning before he left the loft. 

It doesn’t really matter what happened.  It’s not important anymore and I am not going to dwell on it.  Instead I go over to the desk and look around for a piece of paper.  I find my old sketchbook in one of the drawers and pick up a pencil.  Going over to the couch, I sit down and start sketching.  I’m not really sure what it is that I’m drawing.  It’s not important either.  I’m just waiting now. 

It’s an hour later when I hear the elevator move.  I put the sketchbook aside and get up.  The door slides open and I see Brian with some guy wrapped around him.  That doesn’t surprise me either.  I just lean against the back of the couch and wait for Brian to notice me.

“Hey,” I say.

His head shots up, his eyes meeting mine and I can tell right away that he’s drunk, maybe high.  Probably both.  A little early even for Brian, but then again, all things considered, not at all surprising. 

“Who the fuck’s he?” the trick demands, giving me that superior look.  “Your little brother?” 

Brian just laughs as he pulls away from the guy, his eyes still locked on mine.

“I’m the guy he’s gonna be fucking,” I answer the trick, but my attention is on Brian.  “As soon as you leave,” I add, shifting my gaze to the trick as I look him over.  At least Brian’s standards didn’t go away in his grief.  The guy’s hot.  I didn’t expect anything less. 

“Yeah, right,” the guy scoffs as he turns to Brian.  “Would you tell the kid to get lost so we can get back to business?”

“Fuck off,” I say, taking a step toward them.

The guy’s surprised and it takes him a moment to recover.  “Beat it, kid,” he finally says.  He puts his arm around Brian’s neck, or tries to.  Because Brian moves away from him. 

“He said, fuck off,” I hear him say.

I can’t help but sneer at the trick.

“You’re gonna choose some kid over me?”

Brian snorts.  “You couldn’t hold a candle to the kid.”  He turns and looks at me briefly before walking over to the door and sliding it open.

The trick lingers in his spot for a moment before finally moving toward the door. 

“Asshole,” I hear him mumble as he walks past Brian.

Brian just slams the door shut right behind him. 

And then we just stand there – me next to the couch and him by the door, staring at each other. 

He’s the first one to break the eye contact.  He walks over to the kitchen counter and tosses the keys and his cell phone on it.  “I figured you’d be at the funeral with the rest of our very well-meaning friends.”

“I was going to, but…”

“But?”  He turns around.

I shrug, taking another step closer.  “But I knew you wouldn’t be there.”

He cocks an eyebrow at me, just like he always does when he’s amused by something I say.  “Is that right.”

“That’s right.”  I’m standing so close to him now, I can smell the sweat on his body and the alcohol on his breath.  He was probably out all night.  That’s why the loft is so clean.  But that doesn’t matter. 

He looks at me and all I can do is reach out and brush my hand against his cheek.  He closes his eyes and I wrap my other arm around his shoulders, drawing him close.  His hands go around my waist and he drops his head on my shoulder.  I only hug him tighter.

I’m not sure how long we stay like that.  Finally I pull away slightly and take his face in my hands.  His eyes glisten and I know he’s fighting with everything inside of him not to cry.  Not because he doesn’t want me to see, but because he believes that he can’t.  Because his mother is not worth crying over.  And he’s right about that.  But she was still his mother.  And there is nothing I can say that could take away his pain or make it any easier for him to handle. 

Besides, Brian and I communicate best with our bodies, not words.  It’s been that way from the beginning.  And that’s what I do.  I draw his head down and kiss him.  His mouth is dry and hot and tastes like Jim Beam and somebody else, but I don’t think about that.  I just pull him closer.  Or try to.  Because he pulls away.

Now I’m the one left surprised.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

And I can’t help but smile.  “Brian, when it comes to you, you never have to ask me that question.”

“No, I mean…” He moves away from me and leans against the post.  “What you said before.  You were right.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You deserve better.”

Fuck.  It was a shitty thing of me to say, but it seems such a long time ago that we sat in that park on that fucking bench and I was telling him that I didn’t want him anymore.  “No.  No, I don’t.”

“Justin…”

“I deserve you,” I say, wincing at how stupid it all sounds.  “There’s no one better, Brian.” 

He snorts at that.

I know what he’s thinking.  “Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure I could find thousands of guys who are easier to deal with than you,” I say, taking a step closer to him.  “But no one better.”

He smiles and leans in to kiss me again. 

I hear his stomach rumbling.

“When was the last time you ate?” I ask.

He just shrugs.  Figures.

“Come on,” I take his hand and lead him to the kitchen.  “I brought supplies.”

“Supplies?” he snickers.

“Well, if we wanna hide from the rest of the world, we’re gonna need supplies.”  Only logical.  “I have enough for about forty-eight hours.”  I open the fridge and take out the big bag of groceries I brought with me.

“I’m surprised you didn’t eat half of it by now,” Brian says as he examines the goodies. 

“I ate before I left,” I reply and he grins at me.

We take the bag of food, a few bottles of beer, and Brian’s secret stash and take it over to the bed, sprawling it all around us.  I turn off the phones and for the next few hours the world doesn’t exist for us.  It’s just him and me – in our own little world – eating, drinking, getting high, and of course, fucking.

It’s after our second go at it that one thought springs in my head.  “Can I ask you something?” 

He turns to me and raises an eyebrow, patiently waiting for me to go on. 

“When you asked me to move back in here, did you really mean it?”

He turns away and takes a slow drag out of the joint. 

“I really don’t think this conversation is a good idea at this particular time,” he finally says.

He’s probably right, but I have to know.  So, I shift onto my knees and crawl in between a wet towel and a half-empty box of noodles to settle down between his long legs.  I reach out and wrap my fingers around the joint.  He lets go and I bring it to my lips, slowly inhaling the smoke, our eyes locked onto each other.

“Yeah, I meant it,” he says. 

I nod and return the joint to him.  “I’m sorry,” I say, because really it’s the only thing left to say right now. 

He just shrugs. 

I scoot over to the side and lean back against the wall.  “I got scared.”

Brian raises his gaze to mine and gives me a puzzled look.  “Of what?”

I shrug my shoulders.  “It’s just…things were going so well…” I sigh.  “I was afraid of fucking it up.”

He snorts and I can’t help but laugh at that statement myself. 

“Things were perfect…before…and I freaked.  I guess…I guess I was afraid of change.”  I didn’t want to admit it, but it’s true.  Me.  Justin Taylor – fucking terrified of what change might bring.  I used to make fun of Brian for that all the time.  When the fuck did our roles get switched around? 

“The first two times we lived together didn’t exactly end well.  I was afraid it would get fucked up again.”

Brian nods, contemplating my words for a moment.  “I don’t think we need to live together in order to fuck up,” he says.  “We do a fabulous job of that all on our own.  The last two months are a proof of that.”

I smile at that.  We both fucked up.  As usual.  I’m just glad I realized that early enough before I lost him completely. 

“So, are you still up for it?” I ask.

His gaze, as predicted, travels down to my dick, a sly smirk playing on his lips. 

“Not that,” I say, laughing.  I know that we’ll be doing that soon enough.  Whoever said that make up sex is the hottest sex you can ever have, was right. 

He quirks an eyebrow at me, studying my face for a moment, trying to figure out if I’m serious about it this time.  I’m not gonna laugh, Brian.  I swear. 

“Aren’t you scared?” he asks and I’ll be damned if I didn’t hear a quiver in his voice.

I move closer and take his face in between mine, lean down and kiss him softly.  “Fucking terrified,” I reply honestly.

Brian raises his hand and puts it on the back of my head.  Pulling my head down, he covers my lips with his, his kiss a lot more powerful than mine.  I know what he’s trying to say – something that he’d never admit out loud, but what I know to be true – he’s fucking terrified too.  And it feels good – to know that we both feel the same. 

He pushes me down on my back and crawls on top of me, his tongue fiercely exploring the inside of my mouth. 

Just then I hear a soft ringing coming from somewhere in the bedroom.

Brian pulls away and groans.  “I thought you turned off all the phones.”

“I did,” I say.  Then I remember.  Fuck.  “I forgot mine.”

Brian grumbles while I rummage through a pile of our clothes lying next to the bed in search of my phone.  Finally, my hand comes into contact with something hard and I pull it out of the back pocket of my pants.  I look down at the caller id, then back at Brian.  “Two guesses who.”

He rolls his eyes and sighs.  “I only need one.”  He sits up and reaches out and takes the phone from me, switching it off.  And then his lips are back on mine, his hands pushing me down on my back.

“Maybe you should talk to him.  Let him know you’re ok,” I try to make one last effort.  “Let him know we didn’t commit a joint suicide.”

Brian shakes his head.  “If I do, they’ll all be here in less than fifteen minutes, knocking on my fucking door.”

I snicker.  “You think they’ll knock?”  People have been known to just come and go as they please in this place. 

Brian smiles at me before devouring my mouth with his.  End of discussion. 

He nudges me to roll over on my stomach and I do as commanded.  What comes next is the world’s most famous rimming job.  My breath catches in my throat as I feel his slick tongue slowly slide down my back.  By the time it reaches my ass hole, I’m ready to fucking explode, and Brian knows it.  He knows me so fucking well. 

By the time he’s done torturing me and I’m about ready to scream at the top of my fucking lungs how much I need him inside me, I feel him shift and reach for the condom and lube.  And all I can do is thank the higher power and lie in anticipation of the main event. 

I gasp as I feel the tip of his cock against the opening of my hole.  Slowly, with precision Brian slides inside me and for a moment, just one brief moment before he begins to thrust – he’s a part of me. 

~~~***~~~***~~~

Brian:

It’s strange how fast we get used to certain things.  It’s even stranger how long it fucking takes for us to forget about them.  To stop expecting them.  To stop waiting for a call in the middle of the day because he always called you right after he got out of class.  To stop looking for him in the crowd at Babylon on Thursday nights because that’s when he always came out because he didn’t have any morning classes on Fridays.  To stop remembering his schedule in the first place.  To stop reaching for him first thing in the morning. 

Before you even open your eyes, you reach for him.  And when your hand finds only the cold sheets, you have to remind yourself that he spent the night at home, or he stayed over at Daphne’s, or that…you haven’t seen him in two months.

The same thing happens now.  Before I even open my eyes, I roll on my side and reach out for him, expecting him to be there.  But just like for the last two months – he’s not.  My eyes snap open and my brain goes into overdrive trying to figure out why instead of warm smooth skin my hand is clutching silk sheets. 

I collapse on my back and run my hands through my hair, trying to remember what happened.  I know he was here.  I didn’t imagine that.  And I wasn’t drunk enough or high enough to fucking black out.  He was here.  All day long.  He was here when I got back with the trick.  I’m not even sure where I picked the guy up.  Or how many I’ve had before him. 

All I remember from the day before is that the moment I walked inside the loft, all I could see was Justin.  Leaning against the fucking couch, staring at me with those fucking intensely blue eyes of his.  They weren’t judging, they weren’t pitying me.  I saw what I always see when he looks at me.  Something…indescribable.  Something that you can’t just put a label on.  No word could define it – especially not some meaningless four-letter one. 

When I saw him, I knew he was here to stay.  The little break he took, it was over now.  And I couldn’t help but think that maybe he shouldn’t have come back.  After all, how many fucking times have I hurt him?  Too many.  He knows it.  I know that.  The whole fucking world knows it.  Nobody would blame him for walking away.  Least of all, me.  But yet there he was, his arms wrapping around me, his lips touching mine.  And all I wanted to do was disappear inside him. 

How many times have we done this? 

When I was a kid I used to love roller coasters.  The adrenaline rush was like no other.  Mikey screaming like a fucking girl and thus providing me with an eternal source of jokes was an added bonus.  I felt like it was me challenging the world, challenging God.  As if to say, here I am.  You say I’m not supposed to be here?  Not supposed to exist?  Well, here, try and get rid of me now.  I guess HE decided it was more fun to put me through what passes for a life.  I guess HE got the last laugh, because here I am, still riding those fucking roller coasters.  Only it’s not about falling from the hundreds of feet off the ground anymore.  It’s about losing the one person who fucking means so much to me, sometimes I think that all there is of me is him. 

And I’m fucking tired of it.  Tired of the eternal roller coaster that Justin and I find ourselves on.  And when we were just hanging out yesterday, just being together like we’ve done so many times before, I realized I want to get off the ride.  With Justin.  The exhilaration and the adrenaline rush?  Fuck it.  I just want to know that when I wake up in the morning, he’ll be lying next to me.

“You’re up?”

I open my eyes and turn my head in the direction his voice is coming from.  He’s standing at the top of the steps, holding a cup of what I assume is coffee in his hands. 

“I figured you’d need this,” he says as he walks around the bed to my side and holds out the steaming cup. 

For a moment, just one brief moment I can’t find my voice.  I’m speechless as I stare at him.  And then the relief washes over me.  He didn’t leave.  He’s still here.  And as I sit up and take the cup from him, the look I always see in his eyes when he looks at me is still there and I realize – he’ll always be here.  And that, along with a gulp of strong, black coffee, makes me feel warm for the first time in a very long time.

I drink half of the coffee and put the cup on the nightstand, instead reaching for Justin’s hand.  That’s when I finally realize that he’s fully dressed.

“I thought we were gonna spend the day in bed,” I remind him, entwining my fingers with his.  I never thought a simple gesture like that could make your whole body feel so fucking alive.  “Don’t tell me you ate all the food.”

He smiles.  “No.”  He nudges me with his free hand playfully and I catch it before he has a chance to hit me again.  “I thought we could go some place.”

“Where?”

He shrugs.  “Just somewhere.”

I study his face for a moment, but he doesn’t give anything away.  Little fucker, he’s too good a student. 

I’m not so sure it’s a good idea, but what else have I got to do today?  So, I agree and get out of bed.  I take a shower alone, unable to convince him to join me, which only tells me that wherever it is he’s taking me, it’s not a good idea.  Yet, I still get dressed and for some bizarre reason that is completely beyond me at the moment I hand over the keys. 

The drive is mostly quiet, which is a rare thing when you’re in a car with Justin.  There were times when I couldn’t shut him up.  Now he just stares straight ahead, silent. 

Only when I see the sign on the front gate do I realize where he is taking me.  And I have to bite my lips in order not to lash out at him for pulling a stunt like this.

“This isn’t a good idea,” I say when he finally stops the car, surprised at how fucking small my voice sounds.  Even from here I can see it.  The small hill in the middle of green grass. 

“I think it is,” he argues. 

I turn away, to hide the anger.  At least partly.  The other part of me doesn’t want him to see everything that I’m feeling at the moment.

“I really think you should do this, Brian,” he says. 

It always baffles me how his voice can be so soft but at the same time so fucking strong.  Just like him. 

“She’s dead.  What does it matter?” I ground out, staring out the window.

“It’s for you.  Not for her.”

Without looking at him, I open the door and climb out.  Slowly, I make my way through a row of tombstones, stopping in front of the tiny hill of dirt that covers what once was my mother.  And then I just stare at it. 

I’m not sure what Justin wanted me to do.  A whole big speech about how I forgive her?  Or whatever else his warped drama queen mind came up with.  I have nothing to say.  Whatever we both had to say to each other, we said a long time ago.  It was over and done with.  When she died, she didn’t think of me.  I’m sure of it.  And from now on I won’t think of her.  I’m sure of that too. 

I look over my shoulder at Justin who’s leaning against the front of the car, smoking, and then I look back at the grave and all the anger and resentment I felt toward my mother – I feel it slip away.  It doesn’t matter any more.  Because despite everything she said, everything she did, or didn’t do, I’m happy.  And I intend on being happy for a very long time.

I make my way back to the car.  Justin’s staring at me with his big blue eyes, waiting for some admission, or a lecture, which he’s completely in the right to expect.  But I just take a step closer and take the cigarette from his fingers and raise it to my lips, inhaling the smoke into my lungs. 

Exhaling slowly, I lean down and kiss him.  I know what he was trying to do and I…fuck it…I fucking love him for it. 

I pull away and smile.  “Let’s go home.”

The End.

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